


Bitten

by Lady_of_Rohan



Series: Arcadia For Lovers [4]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Attack, Caretaking, Drugs, Gen, Humor, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Medical, Medical Procedures, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Nudity, POV Male Character, Pain, Poison, Poisoning, Public Nudity, Silly, Snakes, yeehawgust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 21:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20607578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: When Arthur encounters a venomous snake, Albert rushes him to Saint Denis, with unexpected outcomes awaiting them.A very late yeehawgust entry for "Snake in the grass."





	Bitten

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little idea for Albert/Arthur that occurred in my game file, because my Arthur is as much of a disaster as Albert, and continuously has very unfortunate run-ins with the local wildlife.

The Bayou was hot, sticky and outright miserable.   
  
The sweltering heat and humid air not only made it difficult to breathe, but slick perspiration had Arthur's plaid shirt clinging to his skin. Even unbuttoning the first few holes of his shirt, and rolling up his sleeves didn't help matters much.  
  
Treading through the thicket by the waterside, Arthur found what he was looking for, several bright pink petals of oleander sage. Incredible to look at, but equally deadly if ingested. Once Javier had taught him about its valuable usage in tainting weapons, hunting had become a whole different beast.  
  
Arthur waved several flies off, looking back over his shoulder at his companion, a certain Albert Mason, who was waiting patiently near their horses by the unpaved road. He watched as Albert lifted a leg to observe the bottom of his boots, thoroughly muddied.  
  
"Found 'em!" The outlaw called out, and carefully placed the flowers into his satchel. He started (carefully) making his way through the sloshing mud that clung to his spurs and made him sink slightly.  
  
"Oh, good! We can head back to camp!"  
  
There was a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, as Arthur paused. He thought that it might be the reflection of the sun against the water, throwing rippling patterns of light in zigzags, before he heard a faint hiss from the nearby brush, accompanied by the telltale sign of a foreboding rattle. Before he could swivel on the heel of his boots, he saw a rope-like flash extending towards him. There was a quick pinch to his upper thigh, followed by searing pain as he cursed out loud. The strike was so quick, head rising and body extending, Arthur had barely registered that he'd been bitten by a goddamned snake.  
  
"What in the hell?!"  
  
Hearing his noises of distress, Albert was instantly booking towards him through the mud. The snake slid right past Albert's foot, causing the other man to jump backwards in fear.  
  
"Good God! That's a rattlesnake!"  
  
He was saved from a painful attack by Arthur's pistol, soon smoking in his hand after a gunshot ripped through the serpent. Albert paced backwards again, bracing himself with a nearby tree and clutching his chest as the snake was practically blown in two.  
  
"You've saved me yet again, dear Arthur!" His words were breathy, from heat exhaustion and fear. "Did it... did it bite you?"  
  
"Sure did." Arthur holstered his pistol, morbidly sinking to the ground to survey the damage. He didn't even care that he was sitting in damp, swamp foliage. Calloused fingers squeezing the flesh of his thigh, he could clearly see two distinctive fang holes through his pinstriped pants, blood seeping.  
  
_Great_.  
  
Bounding a few steps towards him, his own footwear comically sloshing and sinking, Albert knelt beside him to have his own look at Arthur's leg.  
  
"They're highly poisonous," Albert said, clearly terrified as he placed a hand upon Arthur's knee. "My god, Arthur..."  
  
Thinking on the situation, Arthur knew what had to be done, having saved a few sorry bastards who'd wandered into the wilds and gotten themselves bitten. Seems like he was now joining their band of idiots.  
  
"Listen," he grumbled, "I can't believe I'm askin' you to do this, but we ain't got a choice. You gotta... suck it out."  
  
"I'm-- what?!" Albert clutched his chest, aghast. "I feel as if I'm rather ill equipped!"  
  
Arthur bit his tongue, tempted to say something about how he knew he was rather_ well-quipped_ with that mouth of his. But, this wasn't the time for innuendo.  
  
"I can't reach it my damned self!"  
  
Albert, clearly frazzled and wringing his hands nervously, seemed to be considering it. Reasoning it out, even.  
  
"I mean, you did save me from certain death by wolves... and retrieved my bag from that ridiculous coyote... and prevented me from stepping straight into alligator territory--"  
  
"Albert, for god's sakes, it's gonna spread! Don't make me regret killin' those wolves!"  
  
"I suppose it's high time I return the favor!"  
  
Almost instantly, Albert repositioned himself. Gripping Arthur's thigh gently with both hands, his head dipped downwards, and soon Arthur could only see the top of his favored straw hat as he pressed his mouth over the wound. Lips against the meat of Arthur's inner thigh, he was impressed with the force at which Albert was able to suck. Arthur groaned, hoping that he sounded in pain rather than anything else. For a few seconds there, he wasn't sure if he was actually going to do it.  
  
Turning his head as he leaned back, Arthur watched as a horse and carriage passed by, exchanging glances with the driver. Well, there went his chance of anyone not witnessing this. With a slap of the reins, the passerby was decidedly quicker once they'd witnessed the sight.  
  
After a few long moments and something of an unpleasant gurgling noise given from the other man, Albert turned his head to spit. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.  
  
"By god, do you think that was successful?"  
  
"Hope so," Arthur winced. He reached for a bottle of bourbon at his side, pulling it out and handing it to Albert to wash out his mouth.  
  
Albert gratefully took it, sloshing the drink around, cheeks puffing, before spitting again. "We should get you back to town to seek treatment at once!"  
  
Ironically, they were trying to leave town when the bite had occurred. It seemed that mother nature didn't want him to return to her... instead, chained to the confines of the cruel mistress, Civilization.  
  
"Albert, you know I can't afford the doctors there--"  
  
"Your health has no price! Now come on, back to Saint Denis we go!"  
  
The trip back into town was odd, passing in a strange lapse as Arthur followed on his steed, Bones, behind Albert and Huckleberry. He was starting to feel distinctively dizzied. His breaths came out shallow, his leg throbbed, and his body felt like he had spontaneously caught fire. Sweat began dripping down his sun-kissed face, his palm wiping at fat droplets that gathered upon his brow.  
  
At long last, they reached the town's doctor, both hitching their steeds outside upon one of the town's designated posts. Arthur hopped off of Bones, swaying as he did so. He had hoped Albert hadn't seen it, but the other man was immediately close to him, a protective hand upon the small of his back as he led him through the glass door to Saint Denis' only medical building.  
  
Arthur hated the civilized, tamed new world... but he hated doctors more. Thankfully, Doctor Joseph Barnes was a reputable fellow. Arthur had saved a man and watched him amputate their arm once. Gruesome, but the guy had lived to see another day, so he couldn't be all bad.  
  
The bespectacled man had been rearranging his stock of supplies, when Albert instantly spoke up.  
  
"Please, you must help us! My dear friend has been bitten by a snake!"  
  
The doctor regarded them with unperturbed interest. "Another one? Come in, sons, I'll take you right back."  
  
They were led to the back office and examination room as Albert let Arthur lean on him for support.  
  
"Just have a seat right there," the doctor said, and Albert helped him get situated. His heartbeat felt impossibly loud in his ears, his throat dry, and head pounding. He honestly wondered if it was bad enough to die from.  
  
Doctor Barnes' look was extremely discerning as he took the stethoscope from around his neck, took a seat beside him and placed it in his ears.  
  
"Can you unbutton your shirt, please?"  
  
"Oh, let me help!"  
  
Seemingly desperate to aid, Albert hopped in before Arthur could protest. Fumbling, nervous hands worked the buttons of his plaid, as Arthur sat stiffly in his seat. Though Arthur glanced at him, wondering if he could read the subtext, Barnes seemed not one bit bothered.  
  
Albert unbuttoned his shirt all the way down, as quickly as he could with his trembling hands. Arthur's vision started to spin. He wasn't sure if it was the Saint Denis heat and the lack of air flow, or the fact that he was increasingly feverish. He assumed a mesh of both.  
  
The doctor was soon pressing the bell against Arthur's bare chest. He could hear it as it scraped against his chest hair.  
  
"Your heart is beating like a drum," he announced. "How are you feeling at this moment?"  
  
"Uh... hot," Arthur mumbled. "Head hurts. Feel like I might puke."  
  
The doctor promptly kicked the metal bucket beside the exam chair closer to Arthur, and then produced a thermometer from the nearby table of supplies.  
  
"Open your mouth, now?"  
  
In went the thermometer, where it was held for several long minutes as the doctor patiently waited to observe it. Albert, meanwhile, was standing by anxiously yet quietly, wringing his hands.  
  
"Well, you certainly have a fever. Where did it bite you?"  
  
Arthur merely pointed at his thigh. As Barnes leaned in, Arthur groaned as he prodded at the area with his fingertips, not-so-gently examining it.  
  
"Do you know the species?"  
  
"A... Timber, I believe," Albert said grimly.  
  
"Well, in that case, you're very lucky to be alive. I'm going to lance this, and clean out the wound to prevent further infection. But first, I'll give you something for the pain."  
  
Doc helped tug his shirt down and around his arms, bare chest and shoulders exposed as it was draped around his back. Glancing at his partner, Albert was looking infinitely more ill than Arthur felt.  
  
"You can leave, ya know," Arthur offered. "Reckon I'll be all right."  
  
Reaching a hand out to lean against the exam table, Albert huffed. "I'm quite fine!"  
  
His expression begged to differ, as Albert was staring at the promptly prepared hypodermic while Doc squirted excess liquid out of it.  
  
Arthur's voice grumbled lowly in his chest.  
  
"You go into goddamned alligator territory, nearly get yourself eaten, but you're gonna faint over a shot? It ain't even going in you!-- _Ouch_!"  
  
Without warning, Doc had already jammed the needle into his upper arm as Arthur hissed. Arthur glanced from the syringe, to Albert's features, meeting his gaze just long enough to see that Albert's eyes were rolling back into his head. A weak sigh escaped him, and Arthur watched in utter disbelief as Albert swayed, before his face hit the edge of the examination table, and he crumpled onto the ground.  
  
"Albert, for Christ's sakes!" Arthur moved on instinct to go to him, forgetting the needle was still embedded as he jerked away from the doctor, who held him firmly in place.  
  
"Stay put," Doc Barnes lightly demanded. Whatever medicine was going in him started to burn uncomfortably. "At least he's already in my office if he's concussed."  
  
The injection was finished as he withdrew it and set the needle aside on a tray.  
  
"You mind... checkin' on him?" Arthur asked, rubbing at his arm.  
  
"You _do_ know that you're the one who's poisoned?"  
  
He merely nodded in response, despite the doctor's dubiously raised brow.  
  
Doc got up with an exasperated sigh, and kneeling beside the other man's limp form, did a quick examination of Albert. Still breathing, as he gently turned him onto his back. Arthur watched as Doctor Barnes moved to a nearby cabinet, procuring a tin of smelling salts. Again knelt beside him, Barnes waved them in front of the unconscious man's nose.  
  
Albert awoke with a gasp, almost like he was surfacing for air. He sputtered and coughed from the terrible scent of ammonia, and Doc helped him gently sit upright.  
  
"You took a tumble there, son. Do you know where you are?"  
  
Though Albert looked bewildered, he sighed out a long breath, answering properly. "In... Saint Denis?"  
  
"I think he's gonna be just fine," Doc said. "Maybe a little bruise or two. Is he always squeamish?"  
  
"More often than not," Arthur shrugged. "Unless he's suckin' my thigh."  
  
Barnes made a wry expression that was the closest he'd ever seen resembling a smile from him. Albert, meanwhile, had a blush that was visible even past his beard.  
  
"Well, in doing so, you may have just saved your friend's life."  
  
"It's... nothing, truly," Albert said, playing humble.  
  
Doc got back to work as the drugs kicked in, cutting a hole in Arthur's trousers to provide access to the fang marks. Tolerant to alcohol in high volumes, he couldn't say that he'd ever experimented with medicine. He was no Reverend Swanson. If this was anything like what he felt every time he took a hit, it was no wonder his brain was fried and he was so goddamned confused all the time.  
  
Arthur was seeing stars, vision spinning considerably more than it already was. Head tilted back against the leather neck of the chair, he stared up at the high-vaulted ceiling. The light bulbs seemed to spin, twinkling with far more color than he could ever recall seeing.  
  
Amazingly, he was barely aware of any cutting or slicing or cleaning. Albert stood by, producing a kerchief from his vest pocket, and dabbing lightly at Arthur's sweat-drenched forehead.  
  
"Izzit s'pposed ta feel like this?" Arthur mumbled, after a few minutes had passed. Albert glanced between the two of them, looking sickened himself.  
  
"Morphine is a rather powerful drug," Doc said, "it can pack quite a punch."

Arthur felt that had to be a severe understatement.  
  
He wrapped up his leg, and put the supplies away, getting up to move to the sink to wash his bloodied hands.  
  
"Will he be all right?" Albert ventured. Arthur lifted his head, and the room swam as if he were underwater. His skull felt heavy, as he tilted it to the side, where Albert let him rest against his chest.  
  
"Whatever is in his system should work itself out. I'd like you to stay in town overnight. The hotel is just around the corner. Get an ice bath, and remain on bedrest until morning. I'll stop by then for another checkup, but if he worsens, come back and see me tonight." Barnes looked over his shoulder, at Arthur being gently cradled against Albert's chest. "But please... feel free to rest here for awhile until he's ready. I'll speak to the pharmacist and get some tonics ready. "  
  
The doctor took his leave, for a time, leaving the two men alone once again. Albert's hand, cool and clammy, came to rest upon Arthur's cheek. It felt heavenly, his own skin hot and flushed with fever.  
  
"My god... how are you feeling?"  
  
"Feel like my skin's on fire, and my head's somewhere in the clouds."  
  
"Do you think you can stand? As much as I'd love to carry you, I regret that my satchel is the extent of my strength."  
  
"I ain't expectin' that. Lemme try."  
  
With Albert's aid, Arthur was able to stand, wobbling somewhat. An intense wave of nausea overwhelmed him, as he doubled over the metal bucket that was placed prior, and wretched violently into it.  
  
Doc poked his head around the corner, while Albert cooed and rubbed between Arthur's shoulders.  
  
"I'll get him something for the nausea," Barnes said, having been alerted by the violent sounds of Arthur vomiting up his lunch.  
  
With some tonics in tow, they were soon on their way back to Bastille Saloon which was blissfully right around the corner from the Doctor's office.  
  
Arthur didn't remember much, other than being helped onto Bones (as he was the far larger of the two horses) as Albert took the reins, and Arthur remained slumped against the other man's back as they trotted along. He was helped off his steed, the animals hitched as Albert remained close to him as they entered the extravagant establishment for yet another night in town.  
  
Head still swimming, the colors in the room like a kaleidoscope, and the sounds of chatter and the bar piano like a cacophony of some hellish orchestra, Arthur found himself clinging to the baluster of the grand staircase to the upper level, attempting to stay balanced and not vomit again. He overheard Albert's polite tone, even over the noise.  
  
"I'd like a room, please. Oh, and a bath prepared! A cold one, if you'd please. My friend here, he's..."  
  
The bartender briefly made eye contact with Arthur as Albert gestured to him. "I understand, get plenty of his types 'round here."  
  
"He's not an addict," Albert huffed. "Good god, he's been _poisoned_."  
  
Though the man looked unconvinced, Albert had the key to their room, and Arthur was soon guided, carefully and extremely slowly, upstairs to the now-familiar furnished room.  
  
"Would you like to lie down? Or perhaps I can get you some oatmeal from the bar?"  
  
Arthur didn't know what he wanted, as Albert helped him seat himself at the edge of the silk-laden bed.  
  
"Feels like we were just here..." Arthur mumbled.  
  
"We were," Albert smiled. "In fact, the bed doesn't even look changed yet."  
  
"So the stains are still there."  
  
Blushing, Albert ignored that commentary as Arthur grinned at him. One of the saloon girls politely peeked inside their room, announcing that his bath was ready.  
  
"Come now, let's get you nice and cooled off. Hopefully we'll manage to get that fever down."  
  
Thankfully for his wobbly limbs, the bath was directly across from their room. With Albert's aid, Arthur managed to sit in a nearby chair, while Albert helped him disrobe. The photographer had hardly undone the buttons of his shirt, before Arthur took the opportunity to sass him.  
  
"You nervous or somethin'?"  
  
"I'm undressing my incredibly handsome partner, who I thought would be a dead man not an hour ago. Of course I'm nervous."  
  
"Ain't nothin' you haven't seen."  
  
"And yet it's as if I'm looking at a work of art, each time."  
  
Upper half bared, his shirt and necktie neatly folded on the back of the chair, Arthur remained seated while Albert tugged his boots off. Then, he allowed Arthur to stand and lean against him while he undid his pants and suspenders, the pinstriped material dropping to the ground. They stood there a few long moments, nose-to-nose, Arthur's hands upon the smaller man's shoulders. Albert was about to aid him into the bath water, when he glanced around, a soft sigh escaping.  
  
"Oh dear, it seems they've forgotten the towels. Sit tight, I'll be right back to help you in the bath."  
  
Suddenly feeling rather chilled, Arthur stood close to the fireplace. He reckoned he could get in the bath by himself, but Albert would probably worry he'd either slip and fall, or drown himself. It wasn't worth the risk, given their combined clumsiness.  
  
Though he attempted to remain patient, Arthur found himself, perhaps possessed by Morpheus himself, suddenly paranoid. The flames from the fireplace licking his body felt overwhelmingly warm. Was he in hell? Where was his partner? What if he was in danger? It had seemed far too long for him to just be getting towels. And so, he found himself exiting the bath area and wandering across the lounge, and down the staircase towards the bar. The smell of cigar smoke wafting was stronger and more repulsive than usual, and the music sounding from downstairs seemed a broken music box. It was as if he was floating, in another world entirely as he loudly shouted his friend's name.

_"Albert!"_  
  
The shrill voice of a woman was heard shrieking as he made his descent. Albert was found near to the bar's piano player, who abruptly stopped playing 'Camptown Races' as Arthur approached, fingers smashing the keys. His partner nearly dropped the towels that he'd been carrying. A tuxedo-donning man behind them promptly covered his female partner's face with his hands.  
  
"Arthur! _Good god!_ What are you doing?! I told you to wait for me!"  
  
"Took a long time," he muttered. Arthur was blissfully unaware of the entire saloon gasping and gawking.  
  
"I've barely been gone for five minutes," Albert whispered harshly, looking panicked.  
  
"Oh..."  
  
"And you are still... _very much nude_."  
  
Arthur shrugged, looking down at his hips. "Reckon I forgot."   
  
"Dear god, you really are in a bad way. Hallucinating, even!"  
  
A rather extravagant looking patron passed them, her dress feathered and gem-embellished. She was holding an equally gaudy hand-fan, pausing to take in the sight. Albert extended a hand towards her.  
  
"Ma'am, do you mind terribly?"  
  
Her eyes roamed up and down Arthur's body, before Albert took the offered up object, opening it with a flair and a flick of the wrist, before strategically placing it over Arthur's lower half. Arthur felt his opposite hand on his rear as he moved in close to him from behind, attempting to keep him modest as his body blocked his.  
  
The bar owner was shouting about calling the police for indecency, when Albert scrambled up the stairs with Arthur just ahead of him, ushering him back to the baths as laughter from the patrons sounded, accompanied by a few cat-calls and whistles.  
  
"Apologies! Apologies! I'm so sorry!"  
  
When they were alone again, the door firmly shut, and Arthur aided into the bath to prevent another escape, Albert sunk beside the bath tub on his knees, looking defeated.  
  
"Mister Morgan, you truly... are something."  
  
Arthur wasn't sure what that something was, but he was grateful, regardless.  
  
The bath water felt damned good, despite it being damned cold, but the fireplace helped round things out. Arthur paid his excursion downstairs no mind while Albert settled himself. He relaxed in the cool water, body sinking beneath the bubbles as he laid his head back. He sighed deeply, like he was in a dream-state, as he enjoyed himself while Albert wiped a sponge gently over his perspiring body, before holding it against his forehead.  
  
"Feels nice," he mumbled, feeling ready to fall asleep right then and there.  
  
"Well, I'm no saloon girl, but..."  
  
"Better 'an any saloon girl. Though... maybe a lil jumpy."  
  
Albert chuckled, the first time all day that he seemed at ease.  
  
"Well, I suppose you do keep my heart racing." Albert paused to rest a hand against his forehead, where he trailed down his cheek to cup the side of his face delicately. "Seems your fever's gone down."  
  
Arthur looked sheepishly down at his hips, as the bubbles dispersed somewhat. Albert followed his gaze.  
  
"Somethin' else hasn't."  
  
"Oh, my..." Albert was very clearly blushing. "A side effect, perhaps?"  
  
"Think it's just you. All that... suckin' and such."  
  
Leaning in close, though he was obviously embarrassed, Albert kissed him. The suds on his skin left some on Albert's nose.  
  
"Well, when you're better, I'll see what I can do. Just... _please_, I beg of you, no more snake bites?"  
  
"How 'bout, no more Lemoyne?" Arthur managed a dopey smile.  
  
Albert kissed him again, more deeply this time. "Deal, my dear Arthur... _deal_."


End file.
